


Find it even in the dark

by scintilla10



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scintilla10/pseuds/scintilla10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For: scorpiod1. Prompt: <i>Jo femmeslash</i></p>
    </blockquote>





	Find it even in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> For: scorpiod1. Prompt: _Jo femmeslash_

Kat was doing trig homework at the kitchen table when her mom first told her that someone had died at her brother's school. It took Kat a full week to figure out what had happened (and why she was uniquely qualified to deal with it) but only three days to actually dispose of the ghost. Which was how she realized that no matter what advice Dean Winchester was inclined to give about haunted houses, _this_ was what she was supposed to be doing.

She spent senior year avoiding questions about college applications, keeping a wide berth round the guidance counselor's office, and gathering together all the scraps of information on the supernatural she could find. She practiced her marksmanship, researched lore and curses and signs, tracked strange news stories, and cobbled together a working EMF detector from a sparse set of instructions on an earnest and, as it turned out, actually reasonably reliable website.

As soon as she graduated, she packed her bag and caught a bus into Wisconsin, following the most promising of her leads, and ran directly into another hunter on the trail of the same spirit.

If Kat had ever really thought about it, she would have said she considered herself straight. Gavin had been her first real boyfriend and after that hadn't worked out—for several reasons—she'd been more occupied with teaching herself to be a hunter than with romance. So the jolt of _want_ in her gut when she first met Jo Harvelle was sharp and unexpected.

Though maybe it wasn't _lust_ exactly. Because Jo was smart, prepared, and confident and a _hunter_—everything Kat wasn't, quite. Oh, she may have managed to salt and burn the hair in an old teacher's locket and arm two tweens with iron and rock salt in case anything ever turned up again, but she was under no illusions about her lack of expertise. Jo, meanwhile, had grown up with this; she'd faced down ghosts and demons and creatures Kat hadn't even imagined yet. She had just a few years on Kat, but it felt like more, like her years were _worth_ more or something, even though that was stupid. So there was that.

But then Jo smiled at her, glowing wide and bright, and Kat felt something flare deep inside of her in response, a quickening of her breath, a sudden awareness of how close Jo sat. She watched Jo's hands as she dismantled her shotgun, moving calm and confident over the smooth metal, clean sharp sounds as she clicked it back together. Jo fed her whiskey, too, which Kat had never tried before, and she only laughed a little when Kat was wracked by a coughing fit at the burn in her throat. Jo showed Kat her knife and told her how to kill a black dog and how to identify a vampire nest. She gave her an anti-possession charm and told her what the smell of sulfur meant. Kat wrote everything down in the cheap spiral-bound notebook she'd bought at the dollar store, trying valiantly to keep order in the sudden whirl of knowledge.

Maybe it was the whiskey that gave Kat the courage to kiss Jo, but she liked to think she would have done it anyway. She was a hunter, now, after all.

Jo tasted like whiskey, and it was somehow smooth and dark and warm in her mouth. She let Kat chase the taste of it, opening to her tongue and relaxing into her touch. It thrilled Kat, sent heat coursing through her whole body. Jo's hands, when they touched her, were strong and sure, smoothing over Kat with the same assuredness as when they'd assembled her gun, and the same care and gentleness too. It gave Kat confidence enough to push back, to slide her hands under Jo's shirt, stroke skin roughened in places by scars, feel taut muscles trembling under her fingertips. Kat was the one who shivered when she moved her hand up to Jo's breast, her pulse pounding rapidly in her own ears as she felt its warm weight in her palm, Jo watching her with hot brown eyes.

She'd never felt it like this before with someone. With Gavin, sex had been tentative and furtive in her parents' basement; nothing like this, this yearning and tenderness and fierceness all bound up together.

Tomorrow Jo would tug at Kat's wrist after they finished the salt and burn, a question in her eyes, the keys to her truck dangling temptingly in her hand. And later she'd watch as Kat cleaned her own gun, just like her dad taught her, her hands shaking a little under the scrutiny but decisive and sure just the same. She'd write her own notes in tangled messy writing in Kat's notebook or scrawled on a napkin or old receipt as she remembered something and then shoved between the pages. And as they drove, Kat would curl her feet underneath herself in the passenger seat and tell Jo about the haunting in her brother's school, the second ghost Kat had ever seen and the one that sent her back to skeet shooting with her dad and then to the weirdest corners of the internet. She'd tell Jo about how, exhausted and terrified, she'd finally torched Grace Coates's curl of hair and watched a spirit disintegrate before her eyes. She might even tell Jo about her first ghost and hearing a rasp of a number whispered in her ear.

None of it had happened yet but it was all there, the certainty bone-deep in Kat, and so she sank down to the bed and drew Jo after her, tasting of whiskey and sweat and metal and everything Kat wanted.

End.


End file.
